Silent Nights
by BrightPurple
Summary: It’s Christmas Eve and Patrick Jane has to deal with the silence that has spread around him as everyone has left for the holidays. Rated T for nightmare visions of Jane’s wife and child being killed.


**Summary: **It's Christmas Eve and Patrick Jane has to deal with the silence that has spread around him as everyone has left for the holidays. Rated T for nightmare visions of Jane's wife and child being killed.

After I saw how many good "how Jane/Lisbon deal with Christmas" fanfictions have already been published, I almost stopped myself from writing this one. But as this idea kept tumbling around in my head for some days, I just couldn't resist writing it down. I hope you're not too fed up with Christmas stories yet.

**Disclaimer:** The Mentalist doesn't belong to me - I'm just burrowing.

* * *

**Silent nights**

Christmas Holidays.

How he hated them. Everyone had left to visit their families and friends and he was the only one staying back in the now silent CBI building. He usually spent most of his free time there because there hardly ever was real silence, not even at nights: One of the many advantages of working with the police. But now, over Christmas, silence had finally spread all around in and there was nothing left to keep his mind from being haunted by what he feared the most: Images of his wife and daughter, usually starting off as happy memories but always ending up in nightmare visions of them being killed by something he did wrong and he having to watch them die helplessly.

He could have turned on the radio, but he knew that usually his brain wasn't fooled that easily: A noise he had caused himself ususally didn't keep the images from taking over his mind, probably because, even if unconsciously, he felt like he deserved being tortured and haunted for what he had done to his wife and child.

So he sat alone in the CBI building, going through the Red John files, hoping he would find something, anything he had missed before. But as he was reading, his mind slowly started drifting away into the silence . . .

* * *

_It was Christmas Eve and they were sitting around the most beautiful Christmas tree__ ever. For the first time in her yet short life his daughter had been allowed to help decorate the tree and she was very proud of the result. _

"_Daddy, look! This angel here looks just like mommy, doesn't she?" _

"_She does! And do you know who she looks like, too?"_

"_No, who?"_

"_You! You and mommy are my two angels who make me the happiest person in the world!" With those words, he pulled his two angles into a hug and kissed their curly hair. _

"_Let me just go and get the camera, I left it upstairs" his wife said. _

"_No, my angels stay here and enjoy the beautiful tree, I'm going to get the camera for you" Patrick said, quickly getting up. At the door he happily looked back at his lovely family, so peacefully sitting under the Christmas tree, and he couldn't stop telling himself how lucky he was. _

_When he came back down the stairs, he thought he heard a noise outside the front door. He pulled it open. There was no one to be seen,, but a strong wind was blowing into the house. He heard a bang and then the screaming voices of his wife and child. He ran to the living room and gasped at the horrible sight: Someone hadn't closed the window properly so the draft from the door he had opened had blown down the Christmas tree to bury his wife and child underneath. Somehow the candles had lit the tree and his beloved ones were burning alive under the tree screaming for his help. Quickly he ran to help them, stumbled over a chair that he hadn't seen . . ._

* * *

. . . . and found himself lying on the floor in front of his couch in the CBI building. How long had he been unaware of his surroundings? He couldn't take any more images of his daughter and wife dying, this had been going on for two days now and he just couldn't take any more. He had to get away from the silence, just somewhere, anywhere, where there was noise, where his thoughts would be stopped from drifting away into the dark silence that was inside him. He got up and literally fled out of the CBI building.

When he got out he was startled by snowflakes, gently falling from the sky and asking him to dance along. It must have been snowing for hours as the streets and trees were covered with snow and everything looked as if someone with an invisible brush had painted the world in white.

Snow in Sacramento? That wasn't supposed to happen. It was cold, windy and as the snow was falling more and more densely, hardly anyone was in the streets. There were no cars, no buses, no people and still this unbearable silence he had tried to escape from.

Desperately trying to keep his mind from diving into torturing images again, he started walking through the snow. He didn't know where, he didn't care. Certainly he would find some diner that was open where the silence wouldn't get hold of him. But as it was Christmas Eve, none of the diners in the neighbourhood were open so he just kept walking. He had no idea where he was going, just running where his feet were carrying him. After what had seemed like hours to him, he ended up in front of a house which looked familiar to him. No one was at home, there were no lights shimmering through the windows. The owner must have left over the holidays to visit family.

Patrick felt exhausted. He knew he was supposed to know who lived in this house, but his tortured and exhausted brain didn't come up with the answer. Maybe if he just sat down on the front stairs for a minute to get some air back into his lunges and regain some strength to walk on, then the solution would come to his mind immediately . . .

* * *

"_Daddy! Daaaaaaddddyyyyyy! Look! It's snowing!"_

_As Patrick opened his eyes, he could see his daughter sitting on his bed and shaking him awake with beaming eyes. And indeed, as he peered out of the window, he could see big snowflakes tumbling off the sky. It was the first time his daughter saw real snow and she was excited to go outside and play._

_They spent hours outside in the snow, not feeling the cold, playing catch with the snowflakes, building a snowfamily - a snowwoman, a snowman and a little snowgirl - and an igloo. The air was filled with laughter as his wife called them in for lunch. _

_After lunch Patrick went to the basement and soon came up with the old sled they had kept locked away for years. Just a few minutes away from their house there was a perfect slope and he didn't want his little girl to be denied the joys of sledding like he had been as a child. _

"_Be careful!" his wife called after him while they were leaving, his little girl the impersonated impatience. _

_When they finally where sledding down the slope, his daughter screamed from joy and her laughter rang like a thousand little bells in his head. _

"_Faster, daddy! Faster!" she screamed and as he wasn't capable of denying her anything, he went faster and faster when suddenly the slide caught a stone, flipped over and buried them underneath. He wasn't hurt and quickly got up, but he could see a small stream of blood running slowly down the slope, coming from the throat of his daughter the blade of the sled had cut open . . ._

* * *

"Jane! Jane for heaven's sake! Patrick!"

A female voice and a firm hand shaking him woke him from his nightmare vision. He wanted to open his eyes but hardly could lift his heavy lids. When he finally managed to, he could blurrily see a landscape covered with snow and two green eyes looking worriedly into his. His mind was hardly working and it took him some time to figure out who they belonged to.

"Lisbon . . ." When he finally tried to speak, his voice had almost failed him and was nothing but a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my house, Jane. You're sitting in front of my house half frozen on Christmas Eve!" Was she angry at him? No, her eyes showed a full range of emotions, but anger was not among them. When he tried to get up in order to apologize to her he finally noticed how frozen he was. How long had he been sitting in the snow? His whole body including his hair was covered with snow, his feet and hands felt numb and he could hardly feel any part of his face. He could hardly have managed to get up on his feet if Lisbon hadn't come to his side so he could lean most of his weight on her body.

"Thanks . . . for waking me, Lisbon. I'm sorry I bothered you on Christmas Eve, it's not going to happen again, I promise. Enjoy the rest of the holidays!" He wanted to leave as quickly as possible although he doubted that he could make it any further than the next corner. But from there he could probably call a cab to take him wherever he wanted to go. Lisbon wasn't supposed to see him like this, so vulnerable, she wasn't supposed to help him carry his burden. It was his and his alone to carry. But she didn't seem willing to let him go. And he just didn't have the strength to object.

"You're in no state to leave now. You're just going to freeze yourself to death out here" she said in a firm voice and half dragged, half carried him inside her house where she placed him on her couch. Then she first lit a fire in her fireplace, took off his drenched coat and brought him some fresh clothes one of her brothers might have left back and some blankets.

"Put these on an make sure you get warm as quickly as possible, so you don't catch a cold or something worse. I'm going to make you some tea."

When she left the living room, Patrick slowly started to undress and put an the clothes Lisbon had brought him. Slowly his senses started coming back, only his limbs still felt like they were dead. How had he ended up in front of Lisbon's house? He had only been here once and had not made any conscious decision to come here tonight. She had told him she would go visit her brothers in Nebraska for the holidays and he had been sure she was telling him the truth. So why had she come home tonight? Not to imagine what would have happened if she hadn't come home, he was quite aware of the fact that she probably had safed his life - again - tonight. Once he was dressed in dry clothes, he wrapped himself into a blanked and looked around Lisbon's living room.

It looked quite the same as last time he had been there except from the Christmas tree standing in the corner opposite the couch. He noticed it was decorated with silver balls, birds, garlands and white candles. No gold. No red. A little smile was playing around his lips when Lisbon reentered the living room with a steaming cup of tea.

"What are you smiling at? Noticed any new embarrassing CDs in my shelf?" She asked, handing him the tea.

"Thank you! No. I just admired your Christmas tree. Usually women prefer to decorate their trees in gold and red. But yours is in silver and white. That tells me that you are a modest and very compassionate person."

"How can a simple Christmas tree tell you that?" despite the question she didn't look surprised or confused, she had gotten to know him too well.

"Well, you usually don't like gold because it's too pretentious. You only like it if is more to you than sheer decoration. And as for the red . . . We both know why you chose not to decorate your tree in red . . ." Why did he have to bring up that subject? He really had bothered her enough for one evening and the last thing she needed now was him delving into self pity. So he left the answer in the open. But she didn't give up the subject so easily. She sat down on the couch beside him and looked him in the eyes with a serious expression in her eyes.

"What would have happened tonight if my flight to Omaha hadn't been cancelled because of the snow? What is it that made you sit in front of my house for hours in the cold? Did it occur to you that you could have frozen yourself to death?"

She was right. She deserved an explanation although he wasn't sure he could give her a satisfying one. He knew he could trust her but at the same time was scared of letting down his defenses. It was a long time since he had shared something that personal with another living person. With a sigh, he gave it a try.

"Since my wife and child were murdered, I have been haunted by nightmare visions. At first they kept haunting me almost daily, starting off as happy memories with my family but always ending up with them being killed, their deaths caused by me. Over the years, I have learned to avoid those nightmares by keeping my mind busy with other things, only sleeping when there's enough noise around to make my subconsciousness focus on other things. But during the Christmas holidays, everything becomes so silent . . ." The lump in his throat had become too big and his voice was fading away while he looked pleadingly at Lisbon, begging her with his eyes to not make him spell out what had happened to him today. Luckily, she understood. She tenderly placed a hand on his arm while finishing up for him.

" . . . everything becomes so silent and there is nothing left that could make the nightmare visions go away. And trying to escape from this torture, you ended up in front of my house." He nodded silently, ashamed for being such a burden to her. "I haven't slept a wink in two days . . . "

With a determined look on her face, Lisbon got up, took the phone and dialled a number. "Hi there, this is Teresa Lisbon. I got a ticked for Delta Airlines, flight 4776 from Scramento to Omaha for tomorrow morning. I wondered if you have any free seats left so I could book another ticket? . . . Great! Two tickets it is, then. Yes, Teresa Lisbon. We'll be there in time. Thank you. Goodnight."

When she hung up the phone, Jane looked at her with puzzled eyes. "You're going to spend the night here and then join me on my flight to Omaha tomorrow. My brothers invited some friends along, too, so one more doesn't count."

At that Patrick got up from the couch, wrapped himself out of the blanked, took up his coat and cloths and started heading to the door. He definitly had caused her enough trouble and he had to keep her from sacrificing even more of her time and herself to him. But Lisbon was faster, throwing herself between him and the door with the same determined look on her face.

"Please, Lisbon, I'm very thankful for all you did for me, for saving my life and being there for me! The tea was just perfect, you even put the milk in first. But I'm not your charity project for the holidays, I neither want nor need your pity." He knew that this was cruel and she didn't deserve that, but being cruel was the only way to stop her from what she had set her mind on. He just couldn't let her make this sacrifice for him.

She stayed calm although he could see that his words had hurt her. But he should have know she would see through his attempt to push her away.

"You're not my charity project, you are my friend and I personally care about you. And what makes you think I pity you? As your boss, I'm entitled to order you to accompany me to Omaha and that's all I do."

"But as to my knowledge no murder has been committed in Omaha, there is no basis for a professional order to fly there" Jane objected weakly.

"No murder has been committed in Nebraska - yet. But just wait until my brothers start asking me the unavoidable questions about my personal life . . . And by the way I have the firm intention to kill all those demons who keep haunting you one by one, so I have enough basis to order you to join me on my flight to Omaha!"

She was speaking in the tone of their usual banter, but he could see in her eyes how serious she was and how she honestly cared about him. There was no way she would let him go now and who knew, maybe he would be able to keep her brothers from asking her compromising questions and so at least return a tiny bit of the favor she had just done to him.

"Ok!" was all he managed to say as her generosity and understanding of what he needed had caused another lump in his throat.

"Good decision! As unlikely as it might sound, but "frozen Jane" is not the kind of Christmas present I'd like to get."

As they were still standing in front of her door and he still lacked for words, he just pulled her into a hug, a little surprised how good it felt to be so close to somebody again.

END

**I hope I managed to keep Jane and Lisbon more or less in character.**** Yes, I know the cross Lisbon wears around her neck is golden, but despite of that she doesn't seem like someone who likes the pomp gold often stands for. We are yet to get to know the story of that cross anyway . . . I would love to write how Jane meets Lisbon's brothers and keeps them from tormenting Lisbon with annoying questions, but I'm no good at writing comedy, so I'm just going to leave that up to your imagination. But I think neither of them is going to regret spending the Christmas holidays together . . .**

**Reviews of course are welcome. **


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